


Beautiful

by shirewalker



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, except for the final shot, lets pretend alina's hair was still white when she went to visit nikolai, this is like 90percent true to canon, your daily dose of nikolina feels brought by: ME
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:11:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8386732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirewalker/pseuds/shirewalker
Summary: Nikolai thinking of Alina...





	

 

 

Beautiful.

That’s the first word that always comes to his mind when he thinks of Alina. Amazing is the second.

The way her white locks flow in her wake, the way they shine under the starlight as if they’re made of light themselves… He’s never seen someone so unique and mesmerizing. And Nikolai Lantsov has been to many, many places. And he’s seen much in his short life. But nothing quite like her.

 

* * *

 

That first, stolen kiss was a mistake. A sweet, mind numbing mistake. It wasn’t entirely strategic. It had been equal parts strategy and curiosity. Oh, how would it feel like to kiss those lips that always shot the best sarcastic remarks? Far too addictive, he eventually found out. And a high risk adventure. His leg had sported a dark bruise for a week. Still, it hadn’t stopped him from teasing her some more. Especially if he could get her cheeks to turn a darker shade of red. Making Alina blush left an aftertaste that reminded him of sunrises in the sea.

An aftertaste that reminded him of the feel of her lips, of her taste, her scent. “I want to kiss you.” Saints. He had actually admitted it. Out loud. To her. The need to do it again haunted his every waking moment. Every minute he spent alone with her drove him closer and closer to a place he couldn’t allow himself to go. But no matter how hard he tried not to, the distance still grew shorter.

The way Alina’s eyes looked like molten chocolate in those final seconds of sunlight took his breath away. But they also looked… uncertain. He felt a pang deep, deep in his heart as he understood her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to kiss her. Nor that she wanted. It was the little, but important fact that she didn’t think of him as the one she wanted to kiss her. No… that was someone else. But he could have kissed her. Oh, he could have. And in that moment, she wouldn’t have backed away. There was a glint in her eyes that told him so. But it still wouldn’t have been because she wanted him, at least, not completely. So he ruined the moment. And spent the rest of the night lying on his bed, wide awake, eyes locked on the intricate ceiling of his bedroom…

 

* * *

 

Relief.

Relief had washed over him when he found her again. But such feeling was short-lived as he took in how worn out she looked. It wasn’t the hair. Surprisingly so, the white – so pure, so very much like the moonlight, an almost magical hue – fitted her perfectly. If anything, she looked even more beautiful. Nikolai hadn’t thought such to be possible, but there she stood, as beautiful as ever.

No, it was the shine in her eyes that he’d grown used to during their time in Os Alta. It was faded, almost entirely gone. As if something had drained her of all that made Alina… Alina. In that moment, he felt the urge to do something to fix it. But he fixed things, not people. So he came up with a lame joke on tears and vomit. She hadn’t laughed, but still he found a spark of something that looked like happiness in her eyes. Good enough. It was… good enough.

 

* * *

 

Alina.

Once more, she had been the first thing in his mind when something beautiful and amazing happened. A meteor shower, a nature miracle. He rushed to get her, his logical side already planning the route back to a secluded nook. She’d hate him, or at the very least, think this was a strategic surprise and not a romantic one. Maybe she was right. Or maybe it was a bit of both. His heart skipped a beat when her eyes sparkled with curiosity over his ‘miracle upstairs’. He would never get tired of that sparkle. Never.

 

* * *

 

 

Declarations of love. Of course he wouldn’t do such things. They were… what was the word? Yes, expected. He could have. But she wouldn’t have believed him. Not when his logical side was always in action, always planning. So in the end, what was the use to confess that maybe he was a bit in too deep in his feelings for her? What was the use to confess that the reason he wanted her to say yes was because he couldn’t take his eyes off of her when the light from the meteor shower hit her features in all the right angles? What was the use of confessing anything at all? So he didn’t.

But he still very much wanted to kiss her. Saints help him. He had never wanted anything more than to kiss her.

“I love it when you quote me” that much he could confess. No one else had ever quoted him. But she did. And when she did… he felt like a five year old lost in a village festival. Lost in all the amazing colours and smells and sounds. Lost… in her. He tried not to, but he simply couldn’t resist. A brief brush of his lips on hers would be enough to quench that thirst. Except it wasn’t. Perhaps another? She tasted like heaven, but a brief touch still wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed… her to want him as well. That realization hurt far more than Nikolai had ever expected. But then again, anything to do with Alina Starkov was always unexpected.

Like her punching him. Or her snarky retorts. Her brilliant strategies. Or her hatred for herring. But what was even more unexpected was the slow but sure descent of falling for her. He hadn’t realized how far gone he was until she was about to leave. Until she was about to turn into nothing but a memory. Until…

And then he did the most foolish thing ever. He’d proposed again. Of course, she said no. Listing off excuses. It didn’t matter to him whether she was Grisha or noble. It didn’t matter a damned thing. It had never mattered. What mattered was that she was the only person who made him feel the way he felt around her. What mattered was that Alina was the only one who understood that darkness that lived inside him. What mattered… was that she was the only one.

 

* * *

 

 

Beautiful.

The firelight paints her hair in a golden shade as they talk in front of the fireplace. That wretched bottle of kvas sits there, taunting him for being such a gentleman with the woman he… cares for. And Alina sits by his side, as beautiful as ever, as unaware of his inner turmoil as ever. If only he was remotely decent at poetry, he’d spend the rest of his life trying to put in words just how beautiful she is. Trying to put in words how he felt. How she made him feel.

A tap on his knee. A reassurance that they’re still friends.

She’s almost at the door but his eyes never leave the flames and their lazy dance as they eat away the logs. Like the pain inside, eating away at that flimsy beating organ that makes him feel things he hadn’t planned on feeling. Something snaps within him, something dark and hungry and desperate. Something of his, not that… thing the Darkling put there.

“Alina…” she stops walking but doesn’t say anything. He can feel her eyes on him as he gathers all his strength for this one last plea, “I don’t want you to go...”

She takes in a sharp breath. A moment of silence stretches and Nikolai decides to throw all caution to the wind. He turns his hazel eyes to her, “Please… Stay.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I almost had Nikopoo doing a declaration of love, but I don't think he wouldn't. Not at this stage anyway.  
> Now, does Alina stay? Or not?


End file.
